Double M
by bluebirdie16
Summary: Mudblood and Muslim, they were two words that would follow Aisha Adib no matter where she went.
1. Chapter 1

**Double M**

 **Prologue**

I turned around to face the voice that was calling my name from the other side of the platform.

My heartbeat increased with every step I took as I raced towards my aunt determined to keep my hold on who I was, who I am and who I am surely destined to be. Just as I got up to her, her smile faded. Her eyes widened in horror staring at something behind me.

Confused as to what was going on, I turned around.

A sea of people were rushing toward us, I didn't see how I could stop them running us over, how I could shield my aunt.

"It's okay", she whispered quietly, I could barely hear her from the deafening roar of the crowd of people, but I did.

"It's all going to be alright, just remember-", she was going to finish, she was going to tell me something but her voice faded, too far away for me to comprehend what she was saying.

And everything went black.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry if that wasn't what you expected from the summary but it was pretty much all I could do.**

 **A huge thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read this, and don't forget to review or PM me to let me know your opinions.**

 **Until next time.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Double M**

 **Chapter 1- Witch,**

"Remind me what we're doing here again?", I asked my aunt for probably the fifth time since our arrival as I looked up from the pale, brown table-cloth in the small kitchen of our small cottage.

We had arrived in London earlier yesterday where we stayed overnight at some random hotel with terrible room-service, while Sara, my aunt, sorted some paperwork. No matter how many times I asked her, she wouldn't answer me as to why, as soon as the school bus dropped me home, that she stepped out of the door with a handful of my most important belongings bundled into just one-suitcase of her own before pulling me into a taxi and making me board a plane with her.

No matter how many times during our travel I asked her what we were doing, all she replied was that she would tell me later, that she would explain it all to me once we were there. Once our plane arrived in England, I had asked her again but all she said was not here.

I asked her at the hotel, but she said that we weren't at our final arrival yet so I waited. I asked her again when she pushed me onto the train, but she said that we weren't there yet so I waited and fell asleep.

When I woke up, I wasn't on the train any longer and instead on the blue-leather couch of some house I didn't even know.

You must be wondering why or how I allowed my aunt to drag me half way across the world like this well, let me introduce myself first:

My name is Aisha Farhana Adib, I'm turning eleven on 2nd August and I am probably the world's strangest girl ever. My dad's parents migrated from Egypt to Australia three years before he was born while my mum migrated from Bangladesh to Australia with her parents and twin brother when she was three. They both went to the same high-school, then the same university and studied in the same medical course and doing the same PhD course before working in the same hospital.

They weren't even friends (although they knew each other well) until they started working on the same patient. It was my mum who approached him first and went straight to the point by asking if he was ready to try spend the rest of his life with her.

I know it may seem weird, but in the Islamic religion it isn't suitable for an unmarried man and woman who aren't related to be in any sort of relationship outside the working context. Unlike many other religions which forbid divorce or show the woman as wasted, it is preferable for us to have been married and divorced several times than to have had a single non-marital relationship with someone else.

So naturally my dad goes ahead and asks his parents who agreed to consider it before asking my mum's parents who had probably the fieriest temper in the world but eventually cooled down. They went out together for lunch for about three weeks before announcing that they were engaged and waited another five months before getting married.

They had me a few years later and I believe that they were probably the happiest people ever alive until they both died in a car-accident.

I was about eight-months old when my uncle, Bilal, and his wife Sara took me in as my mums parents had already passed away and my dad's parents were both at this nursing home.

Uncle Bilal met Aunt Sara at university in the UK, they were both Bengali-Muslims and had no trouble what-so-ever in convincing their parents for their match. Sara had grown up here in the UK and at first she and Bilal stayed in the UK, until my parents died and they came here to claim custody of me and decided it was best to raise me here.

I went to a public-school from kindergarten through to year 2 before moving to an Islamic school in Year 3 after Uncle Bilal died from a heart-attack. I had taken the selective-test at the start of year six and had gotten into one of the top fifteen high-schools in NSW but now I didn't know what was going to happen.

Sara and I are really close and I knew when I saw her face just as I stepped out of the bus that afternoon that something just wasn't right, that something was terribly wrong so I didn't question her blindly followed her to this hose she claimed was a beautiful, sea-side cottage with curumbling ancient foundations.

I don't remember her moving them, but everything from Sydney apart from the furniture seems to be here which is really weird as none of the stuff could fit into her small purple suit-case, could they?

I don't know how long I've been asleep, but I believe it was for a long while since this place looks like we've been living in it for months already. I know this also adds to my weirdness but strange things always just happen to me.

When people tease me for my hijab or look at me funny at the shopping centre, they always seem to turn extraordinarily short. There was a time where a boy in the park was calling me a nappy-head in year 4 and out of nowhere twenty or so used diapers came flying at him. Only Sara believed me when I told her, but I guess that was just a hallucination.

There was another time when I had gotten a really bad-report card but when I handed it to Sara, the marks seemed to have increased by a long shot and my teachers believed that I somehow copied it while in Year 3 but only Sara believed me when I told her.

Another time when Bilal and I were playing hide-and-seek when I was six, I managed to turn myself invisible for a while and Bilal couldn't see me until I unexplainably appeared in the living room when Sara walked in.

"Why are we where?", Sara asked looking up from her favourite yellow coffee mug and pulling me away from my train of thought

"You know what I mean Sara, people don't just drag their niece's half-way across the world with all the belongings of their house and move into a small cottage by the sea-side suddenly just because they felt like it!", I shout at her and instantly regret the words as they fall out of my mouth.

I can see the teary eyes behind the happy mask she wears. I don't want to know why she is doing that but I need to.

Her eyes begin to tear up and all I can do is stand there while aching to comfort her because all I know is that I shouted at her and nothing else.

"I should have told you ages ago", she says between the sobs as she pulls knees up to her chest.

Keeping her left arm wrapped around her knees she pulls out something from her coat pocket. At first I think it is a stick but looking closer I see that it is too stylish and straight to be just a stick.

With a flick, all the dishes in the sink begin to wash themselves and with another wave, the dust on the windows begin to direct themselves in large groups to the bin.

My eyes were staring wide open, as was my gaping mouth.

Seeing my awestruck look she gives a small smile before directing the wand in her hand at my hair which pulls itself into elaborate curls.

For a while all I can do is stare speechlessly at my aunt with questioning eyes. Her small smile broadens and she gives a small nod and answering my question.

I am magical.

* * *

"So, let me get this straight, you're a witch from non-wizarding parents and went to a hidden school for witches, which uncle Bilal never knew about and my dad's parents are magical and didn't want to take me in because it would expose them to me and my mum was, like you a witch?", I asked with my amber eyes bearing deep into her patient hazel ones.

She nods once before answering.

"Yes, your mum was a muggleborn witch and so was I although we both went to different magical schools. Your dad was a wizard who went to the same magical school as your mum and no your uncle didn't know about any of this", she says to me without missing a beat.

"Why didn't you tell him, Uncle Bilal I mean?", I ask her, my face evident with curiosity.

"You have to understand that our world also has a government with rules and regulations and even though we are permitted to tell our spouses or siblings who aren't magical, but you do remember how high your uncle's blood pressure level was, he wouldn't have been able to contain all this information", Sara replies.

"What about me?", I ask.

"Well, you would have told him or gone blabbing onto your schoolmates as far as I know, not to mention that your mother wanted you to go to a muggle school", her answer seems worthy.

"Also, one more question", I ask her when I notice her getting up leave.

"Just the one", my aunt meets me with a smile.

"Two actually-what does this mean about my beliefs? And why couldn't we have gone to that school in Australia and instead come to the one here in the UK?", my mind is full of questions.

"Well our belief stays the same, this doesn't prove that Islam is wrong instead it supports that Allah has created many impossibilities and is the all-supreme being. As for why you couldn't go to the one in Australia well that recently closed down, now that's enough questions for one day, come on pray isha and get some rest", she tells me before heading upstairs.

* * *

 **A/N: So, what did you think?**

 **Please let me know through review or PM and I am also open to suggestions for this story. A huge thanks for taking the time to read this.**

 **Until next time.**


End file.
